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Laurisel knocked gently on the door to her Master’s quarters. She knew that she did not have to, that over the many years of her apprenticeship Master Dawa had not once asked her to knock when she was entering the living area of the quarters (and she had only forgotten to knock once on the door to her Master’s bedroom, she hadn’t needed to be reminded again).
It only took a moment before the door slid open. Laurisel could feel her Master’s pride and joy in the Force.
“Knight Laurisel.” Master Dawa greeted, and Laurisel felt a thrill at the title.
“Master Imi.” Laurisel replied and Master Dawa’s earfins fluttered, the Anomid equivalent of laughter. She pulled Laurisel into a hug, her Kopi tea scented joy suffusing the air and the Force, mixing with Laurisel’s own sweetberry sauce joy.
Master Dawa squeezed Laurisel tight, running her hands along Laurisel’s ahwey.
“I am so proud of you my Padawan.” She said, and Laurisel squeezed her back.
“Thank you Master.” Laurisel said, and she let herself be led into her Master’s quarters.
They settled into their usual spots in the living space.
“Are you going out to celebrate tonight with your friends?” Master Dawa asked.
“Later.” Laurisel said. “I hoped to eat latemeal with you.” She slipped a hand into a pocket, where her recently severed padawan ribbon-braid rested.
“Of course.” Master Dawa said. “I am happy to have our own celebration together.”
They spoke a few moments more about latemeal, and what they would cook together, a meal that they could share. They had modified and created many recipes over the years that were edible to both Anomids and Nautolans over the years and they each had their favourites.
A comfortable silence fell, and Laurisel, knowing that she would never get the perfect moment that she imagined, but knowing that this moment could become one, took her braid out of her pocket and knelt in front of Master Dawa, presenting it to her in both hands, the pale purple ribbon complementing the darker blues and greys of her skin as always.
“We are always learners,” she began, the traditional words letting her speak a truth that she would have fumbled through alone, “I cherish our learning together and I give you this braid as a symbol of our journey together and of your teaching.”
Master Dawa gently took the braid out of Laurisel’s hands, the light purple even lighter against her dark purple skin.
“It has been my pleasure to teach you and be taught by you Padawan.” Master Dawa said, the traditional response not feeling any less sincere. She traced a clawed fingers over the beads, light green for navigation, dark blue for languages, red for piloting, grey for mechanics, and silver, for lightsaber combat, the symbol for Form V carved into it.
“Come here.” Master Dawa pulled Laurisel up on to the couch with her, folding her into another hug.